Red vs Blue: Reconstruction
by Theo Gary
Summary: A novelization of the Red vs. Blue miniseries.
1. Prologue

Outpost 17-B: "Valhalla"  
Post-War: Year One

_A memo to the Chairman of the Oversight Sub-Committee from the Director of Project Freelancer:_

_Dear Chairman,_

_I write today in response to your committee's request for more information about our program and the suspected incident at Outpost 17-B.

* * *

_Pvt. Walter Henderson sighed as he looked out over Valhalla for what had to be the millionth time. This had to be the dullest posting in the universe. He turned to his fellow lookout, Pvt. Abe Cohen. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

Cohen sighed. "Walt, that has got to be the dumbest question I have ever heard. We're here because Red Command ordered us to be here."

"Yeah, but why? What does it matter if the Blues take this place? They get two bases in the middle of nowhere. Whoop-dee-fuckin'-doo."

"Fine." Cohen replied. "I'll tell Captain Osborne that you want a transfer. Maybe they'll send you to some box canyon in the middle of nowhere."

* * *

"They're still just standing there talking."

Pvt. Wells of the Blue Team frowned down at Pvt. Hitchcock, who hadn't looked away from his sniper scope for a second. "How-"

"Did I know that you were going to ask 'what are they doing now?' Because, Rookie. It's been exactly five minutes since the last time you asked. And that was five minutes after the previous time. And just so I don't have to hear that goddamn question again, let's just pretend it's been another five minutes so I can go ahead and tell you that they're still just standing there and they're still just talking. And, no, I don't know what they're talking about."

"I fucking hate you." Wells muttered.

* * *

The sky overhead was suddenly torn apart in a flash of vivid blue. The soldiers on both sides threw up their hands to protect their eyes. When they looked again, they saw a single Pelican Dropship hurtling down with smoke trailing from its engines. The pilot seemed to gain a small measure of control at the last minute, but it was too late. It hit the ground hard, and skidded until it hit the side of the mountain.

* * *

_No doubt by now you have reviewed the video logs transmitted by our Recovery agents dispatched to the region. I am sure you have seen the empty bases, the barricades constructed by the survivors, the cryptic warning left on the wall, the battles that apparently took place between team members that had turned on one another. And of course...the ship.

* * *

_Henderson and Cohen glanced at each other and then sprinted for their Mongoose ATV, parked behind the base. "Gun it!" Henderson shouted, taking up the passenger position. "We have to get there before the Blues!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Cohen snapped.

But as soon as they were within a hundred feet of the crash site, a sniper shot cracked right over their heads. "Fuck!" Henderson shouted, diving off the vehicle and landing behind a rock. Cohen was just behind him.

"Piss off, Redtards!" shouted Pvt. Hitchcock, shouldering his sniper rifle and standing between them and the ship. "We call dibs!"

"Bullshit, Blue!" Cohen yelled back. "We saw it first!"

"Yeah, well backup from our base is already on the way!" said Wells. "I guess you're just gonna have to scamper on back where you came from!"

"Yeah, well we've got backup coming too!" Henderson shouted. He lowered his voice. "Hey Cohen, you called for backup, right?"

"No." Cohen growled. "I was busy driving. I thought you were going to call!"

"Maybe they're bluffing." Henderson offered. The top of the rock he hid behind exploded as a Gauss Round struck it. "Fuck!"

Cohen risked a glance. A Warthog and two Mongooses were already there. "Bluffing, huh? Nice call, dumbass."

"Attention, Red Soldiers! This is Captain Burns of the Blue Army. By the International Law of Dibs, we claim this ship. Leave now or we will open fire."

"That's bullshit." Henderson muttered.

"Yeah, but I don't want to die." said Cohen. "Come on."

Captain Burns smirked as the two Red Soldiers ran away. "Right then. Pvt. Wells, Pvt. Hitchcock, since you found the ship, you get the honor of coming with me to see what's inside. The rest of you, stay out here and make sure the Reds don't try to come back.

"That's weird." said Wells as they moved around to the aft section of the ship. "Why is the rear hatch open? Do you think the pilot bailed out?"

"If he did, it's his loss." replied Burns, walking confidently into the ship. "If he didn't, well then he might just have fallen on some bullets during the crash."

The two soldiers entered behind him and began searching through the debris.

"I don't think we have to worry about that, sir." said Hitchcock after a moment. "I think I found the pilot."

Lying sprawled on the deck was a woman in black Mjolnir armor. "Uh oh." said Burns. "This chick was special ops. Command is probably going to come looking for this ship. Gather all the vital equipment and prepare…prepare…" The Captain suddenly clutched his head.

"Uh…Prepare for what?" Wells asked.

Hitchcock grabbed his CO's shoulder to steady him. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Hehehe…" Burns turned slowly to the two solders. "Prepare…for your worst nightmare! BWAHAHAHAHA!"

* * *

_While we cannot say for certain, I share your concern we have an unfortunate post-project scenario taking place. However, I take exception to your assertion that we were warned this was a possibility. I would like to remind the sub-committee members that __anything__ is possible. Some things are probable. This is what is. And my agency, as it always has, will continue to deal with what is...until it is no more._


	2. Chapter One

"WE ARE THE META."  
- Message carved into the wall at Valhalla Red Base

* * *

_To the Director of Project Freelancer from the Oversight Sub-Committee Chairman:_

_Dear Director,_

_I want to thank you in advance for your openness in response to our sub-committee's request for more information. We were...__disappointed__ that your Recovery force reported a total loss at Outpost 17-B. We had hoped there would be at least one soldier there that could shed some light on the situation. I know that your agency has enjoyed a high degree of freedom with very little scrutiny for the past few years. It is not our intention to disrupt such a...__progressive__ military program, but instead to find a way that we can work together in a manner that befits all our responsibilities. I am __certain__ that you will agree. And we look forward to making this review process as painless as we possibly can.

* * *

_Pvt. Henderson glanced nervously at the two grey-armored soldiers flanking him. Neither of them had said a word since he had arrived here…wherever here was. In fact, nobody had said much of anything to him since he had been found hiding in a cave back at Valhalla. They had just asked him a few questions, had him examined by a medic, and then loaded him aboard a transport which took him to this installation. All he had been told by the pilot of the transport was that they were from Command and that someone called 'the Councilor' wanted to speak with him. They took his armor and weapons, saying something about "safety reasons." Now, they were taking him through a dizzying series of hallways that he knew he would never be able to find his way out of again, even if he felt inclined to try.

Finally, the soldiers stopped in front of a door which slid open before him. "Thank you, gentlemen." said a voice from within. "Would you please excuse us?" The soldiers saluted, turned and left. "Please, come in." Walter took a deep breath and entered the room. He was surprised to find only a large screen set into the wall. In the corner of the room, a man in dark grey and yellow armor stood leaning against the wall. His helmet was off, and Walter could see that he was very pale and had dark circles under his eyes. He appeared rather young, but his hair was streaked with grey. The man took a long drag on his cigarette, but didn't spare Walter a glance. "You are Pvt. Walter Henderson, correct?"

Walter jumped. The voice had come, not from the man, but from the screen where he could now see a shadowy face. "Y-Yes, sir."

"You may dispense with the formalities, Walter. We want you to feel comfortable to speak as candidly as you wish." said the voice who was apparently this 'Councilor.' Despite the friendly words, something about the voice made him feel uneasy. "Can you tell us what happened at your outpost, Walter?"

"Yes sir…Uh I mean, yes. Uh…I had been there about six months. Everything was like normal. Then one day this ship crashed."

"I see." said the Councilor. A hologram of the Pelican appeared in front of Walter. "Is this the ship to which you are referring?"

"Yeah. That's it."

"Please," prompted the Councilor, "tell me what was on the ship, Walter."

Walter shrugged. "I dunno. The Blues got there first. They fought us off while they cleared it out. They took all the stuff back to their base. By the time we got hold of it, it just seemed like a regular old Pelican Transport. Our engineer said some of the wiring had been messed with, but he didn't seem worried about it or nothin' like that."

"I see." said the Councilor. "Thank you for that."

"But whatever was on the ship must have been what started the whole thing."

There was a long pause. The man in the corner looked at him. Finally, the Councilor spoke again. "Please, Walter. Define 'thing.'"

"The infection." Walter replied in a haunted tone. "The Blues just stopped fighting us. Some of them set up camp outside their base and trapped the rest of their team inside. They blew up their Com Tower for some reason. Their own Com Tower. Then they blew up ours. That's why we couldn't radio for help. We couldn't figure out why they would do that. After that…nothing. No word from them at all. The CO sent a squad over…All the Blues were dead. They had killed each other."

"Why do you think they did that?" the Councilor asked.

"I dunno. They had torn the radios out of their helmets and dismantled their computers. The CO said they were trying to build something, but no way. I saw they stuff. They were trying to break it. And there was another body in there. Not a Blue. Someone else." He frowned, making a connection for the first time. He glanced at the man in the corner. "Actually, she looked kinda like him."

"Don't worry about him for now, Walter. Please, continue."

Walter turned his attention back to the screen. "We brought all the equipment back to base and brought it online. That's when the infection started for us."

"The soldiers became…sick?"

"No." said Walter, the haunted tone returning to his voice. "They just…They were different…Off. We would catch guys getting into areas they shouldn't. But the weird thing was, a guy would go crazy, act up. We would throw him in a cell and then he would be fine. Then another guy would go nuts and disobey orders. Like trying to bring the Com Tower back online even though we were told to leave it be. Maybe they knew it was coming."

There was another long pause. "They knew _what_ was coming?"

"At first, we thought it was help. It ransacked Blue Base, searched all the bodies. Then it came after us. It seemed focused on the guys that were infected. Eventually…it just started killing everything. "

"Could you describe it for us, Walter?"

"Not really." he replied. "It moved fast when we first saw it. And after Blue Base, it was different. It looked like…like it wasn't there. I dunno how to explain it."

"That's alright." said the Councilor. "I know this has been difficult for you, Walter. We're going to do everything we can to help you." The two stoic soldiers returned right at that moment. "Please, follow these men to your new quarters. You'll be with us only as long as absolutely necessary. You have my word."

* * *

The man in the corner watched Walter leave, vaguely wondering what was going to happen to the poor soldier. He hoped that it would only be radical memory modification.

"Agent Washington, what do you make of all this?"

Washington stood up straight, fighting the urge to wince as a now familiar pain shot through his back. He tossed his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his heel. "I think it sounds exactly like what I encountered. Only it's stronger now and becoming more so all the time."

"Does that concern you?"

"It doesn't make me excited." Wash replied dryly.

"You've been through a lot with this program." said the Councilor with obviously fake concern. "The Epsilon AI we assigned you-"

Wash cut him off. "-has already been discussed to death. I'm over it."

"And now your physical problems because of your last encounter-"

"I'm better now, mentally and physically."

"Our profile of you disagrees."

Wash's psychological profile and doctor's reports appeared on the screen. Wash noted with irritation the suggestion from several years before by the Councilor himself that he be placed under 'indefinite psychiatric observation.' "Look, the last mission I ran against this thing, I got shot in the back by my own partner."

"Agent South Dakota. We feel…some responsibility for that."

"Yeah. You should." he replied bluntly. "If I hadn't had York's Healing Unit, I'd be dead now. So, while this isn't an ideal situation, and I don't feel like sticking my neck out for you guys, if this mission puts me on a path that leads to her, you can trust me at least that far."

"So you would say that you have overwhelming feelings of anger and a need for revenge?"

Wash nodded. "More than you know."

"Excellent." said the Councilor, sounding satisfied. "Now that our Agency is under investigation, the Director feels that it is important for us to be as open as possible with each other. If our suspicions are correct, the Meta has made another addition; the Omega AI."

Wash quickly recalled the names of the other agents and their AI partners. "It was Omega and…Agent Texas, right?" That thought sent a chill down Wash's spine. Omega had made Tex extremely violent and aggressive. He remembered well the time she nearly put out Agent York's left eye during training. That the Meta had something now to make it more even aggressive was an unsettling thought to say the least. "The Meta doesn't leave much behind. It's going to be difficult to track."

"We feel that the best place to start would be Omega's last known location. The soldiers stationed there have the most experience with our program."

"I see." said Wash. "So I should contact these experts-"

"We do not like the term 'experts.'" interrupted the Councilor.

"Because nobody really knows what our program does?"

The Councilor hesitated. "Let's just say that the term 'experts' would be a little too…complimentary in this particular case. Go to the landing pad, Agent Washington. There is a Hornet waiting there for you."

"How will I know where I'm going?" Wash asked.

"The coordinate are already set. Good Luck."

Wash did as he was instructed, navigating the labyrinth of hallways until he reached the landing pad. A technician pointed him towards the Hornet he had been assigned. As soon as he was secure in the vehicle, he checked the coordinates. They were set to take him to Outpost 1-A: Blood Gulch.

"Oh great…" he muttered.


	3. Chapter Two

_A response from the Director of Project Freelancer:_

_Dear Chairman,_

_While I am obligated to assist you in your investigation, I ask that you not waste my time with irrelevant questions. My agency is normally unconcerned with such minute details as troop reassignment. Except, of course, in the most critical of matters.

* * *

_**Outpost 1-A: Blood Gulch**

Wash circled over the canyon twice, rechecked the flight logs, and even pulled out a map to make sure that he had gone to the right location. "Why on god's green earth would anyone put an outpost in this place?" he muttered. It couldn't even be accidentally mistaken as a strategic location. Finally, he landed near one of the bases and climbed out of the Hornet.

The place was very quiet. The only sounds he could detect were the chirping of a few birds and the faint hum of the teleporter on top of the base. "Hello?" He called. "Anyone here? Hello?"

He sighed and activated his link back to Project Freelancer. "Recovery One calling Command. Come in, Command."

"_Go ahead, Recovery One. We have you."_

"I'm at Outpost 1-A. It looks deserted."

There was a short pause, while the Dispatch Officer checked with her superiors. _"Roger that. See if you can find any evidence that might suggest where they all might have gone."_

"HEY! A-HOLE! WHAT'S WITH ALL THE NOISE? PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!"

Wash blinked in surprise as a blonde-haired girl in yellow underwear and a white T-Shirt stumbled out of the base, yelling at him. "Uh…Scratch that, Command. It seems I've found someone. Recovery One out."

"Oh man…" the girl moaned, holding her head.

Wash could see discarded beer cans and liqueur bottles, amongst other debris all around the base. He cleared his throat. "Uh…Hi. I'm Agent Washington. And you are?"

"Just call me Sister." she said, picking up one of the beer cans and shaking it hopefully. "Everybody else does."

"Ookay…Well…Uh…Sister, this is Blue Base, correct?"

Sister shrugged. "It _was_. Everybody's gone. Transferred. Something about this base being obsolete now or whatever."

"Well why weren't you reassigned?"

She laughed. "Me? They don't even know I'm here!"

"Right…Can you tell me where everybody went?"

"I dunno!" she snapped. "All different places! Nobody told ME anything."

Wash sighed. Clearly, this girl was something of an idiot. "Well, I'm trying to locate people who have experience with the Freelancer Program."

Sister frowned. "Freelancer? Is that the band we had here last night?"

Wash raised an eyebrow "Band? You had a party here?"

"Yeah!" she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I throw raves every night! I charge five bucks a head! Last night, I made ten bucks! _Oop oop_! Nice!"

"You use the base for raves? That doesn't seem like the proper use for official resources."

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you, like a cop or something?"

"No…"

"Because if you are and I ask you, then you have to tell me! That's totally a law or something!"

"I'm not the police…" Wash said, getting very exasperated. "And that's not a real law."

She crossed her arms smugly. "Well if you're not a cop, then how do you know it's not a real law? Ooh! Busted!"

Wash sighed. "You caught me. Hey, is there anybody…smart…here that I can talk to?"

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna tell _you._ I don't rat people out, COP!"

Wash rolled his eyes. This was a complete waste of time. "Okay. I'm leaving now. Good luck with your empty base and your raging insanity."

"Yeah? Whatever!" Sister called to his back, "Good luck with being a cop…_COP_!"

As he walked towards the base on opposite side of the canyon, he keyed his radio again. "Come in, Command."

"_Hello, Washington. We have you. How was the investigation at Blue Base?"_

"Enlightening." Wash replied sarcastically. "I'm going to try the Red Base now. I'm hoping things there will be a little more…" A cardboard cutout of a soldier in pink armor suddenly popped up right in front of him. "…normal…"

"Halt," said a gruff, accented voice, "in the name of the Red…Ahem…I mean Lightish Red Army! This base is operating at full capacity! And if ya come in here, yer gonna get into a big…uh…slap fight!"

"…Command, I'm going to have to call you back."

"So don't come any closer! Ooh la la!"

Wash walked past the pink cutout. After about ten more feet, a second cutout popped out from behind a rock. This one was of a soldier in maroon armor. "This is yer last warning!" said the same voice. "Stay out! I love math! Yer only hope of survival is to kiss my commander's ass!"

Wash didn't even stop as a third cutout of a soldier in orange armor popped up. This one had clearly been used for target practice. "This is another warning! I know the other warning was supposed to be the last, but I never listen to orders because I'm too lazy and stupid! And ugly! Did I mention ugly?"

"This is going to be a waste of time, I can tell already." Wash muttered.

A fourth cutout of a red-armored soldier popped up right next to him. It had the stripes of a Sergeant on its shoulder. "Yah! Freeze, intruder! Stop yer intrudin' right there!"

"Who made all these?" Wash wondered out loud.

"I did!" The 'cutout' moved slightly and Wash could see that it was actually 3D.

"Wait, you're real?"

"Of course I am! You fell for a classic misdirection! I still got it! Hehehe!"

A soldier in brown armor leaned out of the base. "¡Sea callado fuera aquí! ¡Usted interrumpe mis telenovelas! " (Shut up out here! You're interrupting my soap operas!) it said in robotic monotone.

"We're fine, Lopez!" Sarge said jovially, clearly not understanding a word of Spanish. "Just caught m'self a dirty Blue! How many's that make this week?"

"Uno."

"Yahtzee!" Sarge declared. "We're on a hot streak!"

"I'm not actually a Blue." Wash explained. "I'm from Command."

Sarge blinked and lowered his shotgun. "Command? No kiddin! I didn't think we were due for an inspection."

"You're not. I was hoping you could tell me about the soldiers transferred out of this outpost."

Sarge growled. "You mean Grif and Simmons? Those traitors! I told 'em not to go! The battle here isn't even over yet!"

Wash looked around. "Uh…It looks over to me."

"Not while there's a single Blue left in this canyon!" Sarge declared. "Which there is! A single Blue! Victory or death! That's why I refused my relocation orders! Obviously, Command wasn't thinkin' clearly!"

"So…you're AWOL then." Wash concluded.

Sarge scratched his head. "Uh…I uh…A-what?"

"DON'T TELL HIM ANYTHING UNTIL YOU TALK TO A LAWYER! YOU HAVE RIGHTS!"

Wash didn't even bother turning to look at Sister who had obviously followed him over from Blue Base. "I'M NOT A COP!"

"HEY! BEAT IT, YA LITTLE TRAMP!" Sarge shouted. "Ya see why I can't go?"

Wash raised an eyebrow. "Okay. So attack her and win then. It would take about ten seconds."

"YOU'RE OLD AND I _HATE_ YOU!"

"That's the problem." Sarge said. "I can't attack a girl! So we're locked in an epic stalemate!"

Wash laughed humorlessly. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Plus, she's cookin' somethin' up and I gotta be ready! I hear her runnin' trainin' ops every night! I see them out there with their glowsticks and their tribal drumbeats! _Oom chika oom chika oom chika oom chika_!"

"_Deedaloot_." Lopez added helpfully from within the base.

Wash stared at him. _There has got to be something in the water around here._ Out loud, he said, "Well, this has been really…informative. But I need to find someone who has experience with Artificial Intelligence."

"Alright." said Sarge. "You want Caboose then. He got infected for a little while, I think."

"Great!" said Wash, grateful beyond words that this whole experience had been worth something. "Caboose. Do you know where he is?"

"Of course! We intercepted the Blues' orders! I got 'em right here! Lopez!"

"¿Si?"

"Get this guy the Blue Team relocation orders!"

"Si."

"Lopez probably translated 'em into Spanish, so they might be a little hard to understand."

Wash sighed. "Yeah. They wouldn't be the first thing today."

"SHUT UP, COP!"


	4. Chapter Three

_Dear Director,_

_Due to your busy schedule, we have begun interviewing members of your staff. I am certain you will let us know if this bothers you. Our debriefings keep coming back to a single subject at Outpost 17-B. Can you explain to use what this 'Meta' is and what your plans are to deal with it?

* * *

_**Outpost 28-C: Rat's Nest  
Blue Base**

"Oh no! HELL no! Excuse me, sir, but no goddamn way!"

Wash gave a deeply annoyed sigh as a Blue soldier with a cigar hanging out of his mouth charged out of the base towards him. He had arrived just a moment before and told the door guards that he was there for one of their number. "You must be Lt. Miller." he said blandly.

"I got Reds comin' outa my ass here, boss! And you show up here and take away one of my men for a...What'd you say this was for?"

"I didn't." Wash replied. "But it's a top secret mission."

"A WHAT?" Miller demanded, dropping his cigar. "Oh you gotta be kiddin' me!"

"I think you have bigger issues than troop assignments, soldier." He jerked his thumb over at the motor pool where a number of wrecked vehicles sat, one of them on fire. "Like how about getting some of these vehicles back in working order?"

"What the hell do ya think I'm talkin' about?" Miller demanded. "This is YOUR fault! You sent us the new guy. Said he was good with vehicles. But all he does is talk to 'em. TALK to 'em! What the hell is that about? And now look at the damn things!"

Wash got right up in Miller's face. "Look! I don't have time to discuss YOUR problems! I have orders! And those orders say that I need Pvt. Caboose and I need him NOW. He has information that is vital to-"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a second…" said Miller. "Caboose? You're taking _Caboose_? And I don't hafta pay you or anything like that?"

Wash frowned. "Is that a problem?"

Miller's face split into the biggest grin Wash had ever seen. "Problem? HELL NO! It must be Christmas Mornin' and nobody told me!" He patted Wash on the shoulder. "You just stay right there and I'll fetch him for ya." He looked over his shoulder at the soldiers who had gathered to watch. "Pvt. Jo-Ennis…Jo-Ennis! JO-ENNIS, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

One of the soldiers gave a long-suffering sigh. "Sir, for the millionth time, my name is pronounced Jones. JONES."

"Shut up, Jo-Ennis!" snapped another soldier.

"Seriously!" said Jones. "Lots of people have the name! It's very common! How am I the first guy you've met called Jones?"

"Jo-Ennis, I need you to go down to the brig, untie Caboose and get 'im up here."

"Me?" Jones squeaked. "Alone?"

"Double-time, Jo-Ennis!"

"It's pronounced…Oh never mind. Christ…"

"You keep him in the brig?" Wash asked incredulously.

Miller grinned. "We keep 'im _tied up_ in the brig. I'm not takin' any more chances. You'll understand soon enough."

A gunshot sounded from within the base, followed by a scream from Jones and another voice saying, "Oops! Please be careful!"

A young man with short black hair and a dim smile, wearing no armor, just black coveralls, came out of the base. "You wanted to see me, Principal Miller?"

Miller sighed. "Caboose, where's the guy I sent to get ya?"

Caboose scratched his head. "Oh him…Yeah, he let me out and then somehow shot himself in the back somehow. But we don't think it was anyone's fault."

"Jesus!" Miller growled. "Would someone go check on him?" He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before continuing. "Caboose, this here is Special Agent Washington from Blue Command. He has somethin' fan-tastic he needs to talk to you about."

Caboose's eyes went wide. "Command? Oh no! They never have good news! Did somebody die? Was it my mom? Is she dead? Or my dad? Did my dad die again? Oh no!"

Wash stared at him. "I don't…What is this…?"

Miller chuckled. "Y'see? He's yours now. No takebacks!"

"Is it my brother?" Caboose asked, growing increasingly frantic. "Was my brother killed? That's it, isn't it? My brother's dead!"

"What?" asked Wash, now totally confused. "No…It's nothing like that."

"Oh good." said Caboose, calming down slightly. "Because I don't even have a brother! How sad would it be to not have a brother and to lose a brother all in the same day?"

"No one died!" Wash shouted.

"Jo-Ennis is dead, sir!" called a soldier from the base.

"Okay…No one besides him."

"Once again, nobody's fault." said Caboose. He leaned towards Miller and said in a loud whisper. "Psst! I think the new guy did it!"

Wash decided to just cut to the chase. "Pvt. Caboose, you were stationed at Blood Gulch, right?"

"Yeah…" Caboose said, smiling wistfully. "That was fun."

"And our records indicate that you were infected with an aggressive Artificial Intelligence at one point; the Omega AI. Is that correct as well?"

"Yeah…" Caboose said, with the same wistful smile. "That wasn't as much fun."

"Okay." Wash said slowly so that he hopefully wouldn't have to repeat himself. "Well I need you to come with me. I'm investigating a critical issue and you seem to be the only person with the knowledge and experience necessary to help me…" He sighed. "…And I just realized how ridiculous that sounded once I said it out loud. Nonetheless, I need you to come with me." He turned to the soldiers. "Will one of you go get Pvt. Caboose's armor?"

All of the soldiers shouted "YES SIR!" and all went at once, obviously eager to be rid of the menace.

"Can I have a word with 'im first, sir?" Miller asked.

Wash was surprised, but he shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

Miller pulled him aside. "Now, Caboose, I know we didn't always get along-"

"I got tied up!"

"Right. But all these mistakes, I know it's not yer fault. Ya seem like a good kid. Yer just a little…confused."

"Yeah…he is."

"But I wanna give you a piece of advice." He nodded at Wash. "This guy looks like a tough customer. And yer bound to get into some situations that maybe yer not prepared for."

"Right. Like a rodeo."

"Now," said Miller, sounding very grave, "if that happens, if you find yourself in danger or in a situation where you think somethin' bad is gonna happen to you, I want you to remember just one thing; Never, EVER come back here!"

"Okay!" said Caboose.

"No," Miller insisted, "I need to _know_ that you understand. I need to hear you say it."

"Don't ever go backwards."

Miller sighed. "Okay…I guess that's as close as we're gonna get." The soldiers returned at that point and dumped a large case at Caboose's feet. "He's all yours!" Miller shouted to Wash.

"Great." The Freelancer muttered. "Come on. Grab that case, Caboose. Let's get going. Lt. Miller, we're taking one of your Warthogs."

"As long as you take Caboose too, I don't give a damn."

Wash made for one of the less damaged vehicles and Caboose trotted along behind him. "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? _Are we there yet?_"

"Just…try to stay quiet!" Wash snapped.

Miller grinned as they climbed into the Warthog and sped off. "Boys, this is a great day! Things are finally changin' for us! I can feel it!"

"Should we bury Jo-Ennis now, sir?"

"Fellas, let's just enjoy this moment a little longer. He's not goin' anywhere."

* * *

A Blue soldier watched the Warthog as it left.

"I'm hungry…I'm thirsty…I have to go to the bathroom again…"

"Shut up, Caboose!"

As soon as the vehicle passed, the soldier's armor shifted and turned white and brown. It turned and looked back at the Blue Base, where it knew there were more vehicles. It gave an inhuman hiss, and drew a huge grenade launcher with a blade on the back.


	5. Chapter Four

_Dear Chairman,_

_Rest assured we have the situation under control. While the Meta is proving to be an elusive enemy, our Recovery Agent is already closing in on it. I expect this incident will reach a conclusion soon, and I will be able to return to my research. Hopefully, without any further interruptions.

* * *

_**Outpost 1-B: "High Ground"**

Wash looked up at the derelict base, wondering why he listened to Caboose. The dim-witted soldier had assured him that someone here could help them. But Wash couldn't see how anyone could possibly be stationed here. It had clearly been abandoned many years earlier, possibly even before the Covenant Invasion. The path up to the rusty gate was choked with weeds, and a huge section of the outer wall had collapsed. He turned to Caboose. "And…you're _sure_ this is where we can find this guy?"

Caboose nodded. "I think so! We all found out our new orders at the same time. He tried to hide his from me so I would not know where he was."

"Really…" Wash drawled. "I can't imagine why."

"I said it was like a game of hide and seek," Caboose continued, the Freelancer's sarcasm totally escaping him, "and he said that was right! He was going to hide from me. And the only way he could win is if he dies without ever seeing me again!"

"And he knows about Freelancer as well?" Wash asked.

"Oh, yeah! He knows the most. He knows all about your AI game. He dated Tex!"

Wash frowned. "Agent Texas? Um…How could a person-" He was cut off as a sniper shot went right between them. He dove for cover, drawing his rifle. "Fuck! Sniper! Get down!"

Caboose looked at the deep divot the shot had plowed into the ground and then back up at the base. "Huh?"

"Okay," shouted a voice from up on the wall, "that was your one warning shot! The next one's going right between your eyes!"

"Private Caboose, get down!" Wash yelled.

"Wait a minute…" Caboose said, frowning.

"Alright, I warned you! Sayonara, biatch!" The sniper fired again, and missed Caboose by a mile.

"OH, COME ON! WHAT THE FUCK?"

Caboose grinned. "I know that voice! Church! Church, it's me, your all-time best friend!"

"…Caboose? Caboose, is that you?"

"Yes! Church, it's me!" Sniper rounds began striking all around Caboose, pretty much hitting everything except him. "I have missed you so much! It has been so long! Did you miss me?"

"FUCK! I missed him!"

"I knew you did!" Caboose sobbed happily.

"_GO. AWAY_." Church growled.

Wash shook his head incredulously as more shots rang out, all missing Caboose. "This is your _friend_?"

"Yeah."

"…And he's shooting at you."

Caboose shrugged. "Well, at me and stuff around me. Yeah, this is kind of like our thing. He acts like he doesn't like me, but he really does. Oh, and he might bring up something about me killing him, but it isn't true. It's a joke. You can play along if you want!"

Wash frowned. "Wait, that doesn't make any sense. You did what? You _killed_ him?"

"Hey, scram!" Church shouted, showing himself for the first time. Wash could see that we was wearing rather poorly maintained cobalt armor. "Seriously, get the fuck outa here!"

"Hey, Church!" Caboose said, happily. "This is Agent Washington! He needs to speak to you!"

"Agent Wa…You brought a _Freelancer_ here? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"

"Open this gate!" Wash demanded.

Church crossed his arms importantly. "No can do, bud. See, this is a secure facility. Nobody in, nobody out. Sorry. I guess you'll have to come back, uh, NEVER."

"Oh no." Wash replied calmly. "Then I guess we'll just have to walk through the huge hole in your 'secure' wall."

Church glanced at the hole, thought for a moment and gave a dramatic sigh, as if he was doing them a huge favor. "_Fine_. I'll open the fucking gate."

As Wash walked through the gate, he saw that the interior of the base looked no better than the exterior. Every building had huge holes in the walls, and the ground here was also overgrown.

"Okay…uh…Sorry the place is so messy." Church said, jumping down from the wall. "I would have cleaned up if I'd known you were coming. But hey, no one called ahead."

"How long have you been here?" the Freelancer asked.

"How long?" Church scratched his head. "Uh…What day is today?"

"April 1st."

"I've been here 14 months."

Wash blinked. "What? Over a year? Alone?"

Church sighed. "Yeah…It's been great…I mean just…It's been great…"

"_This is Command calling Recovery One. Come in, Recovery One."_

"You are really an odd group of people." Wash muttered. He clicked his radio on. "This is Agent Washington. I found some Blue Team members that have extensive experience with Omega."

Church turned to Caboose. "Did he just say Omega?"

"Yeah!" Caboose replied. "And some other words too!"

"_Excellent, Agent Washington. Please stand by for orders…"_ Caboose was watching a butterfly fluttering around when he thought he saw something up on top of the wall. He fixed his gaze on the spot where the air had shimmered for a second, but didn't see anything. He was about to tell Church, when he noticed the butterfly again. "_Now that you have reassembled the Blues, you should travel to Red Base at Outpost 17-B. See what clues your team can gather there based on what they know. We want you to stop the Meta at all costs. This is a Level One Directive. Good luck, Wash. Recovery Command out."_

"Recovery One out." He turned to Church and Caboose. "Come on. Let's move out."

Church laughed. "Move out? At what point in this conversation did you think we were buddies or something? I'm not going with you!"

Caboose put his hands on his hips and scowled. "Yes! You are not in our buddy club!"

"Shut up, Caboose!" Church growled. "And what did I tell you about that armor when we had to pick new suits?"

"You told me to upgrade!"

"That's not an upgrade!" Church yelled. "This is Mk-VI armor! That's Mk-V! THIS is an upgrade!"

Caboose thought for a moment. "Well, in a Top Ten List, five is better than six!"

"We're not a Top Ten List!"

"Good lord!" said Wash, shaking his head. "How the hell do you two get anything done if all you do is argue with each other?"

"We don't!" Church exclaimed. "That's part of our charm! Quit fucking it up!"

Wash sighed. "Look, I know you guys are all wrapped up in your little 'Red vs. Blue' battles-"

"Blue vs. Red battles." Caboose interrupted. "Nobody says Red vs. Blue. It sounds stupid when you say it backwards."

"-but this is an important REAL military operation, not your fake simulation stuff. Something is hunting our top agents and I need all the help I can get to stop it."

Church snorted disdainfully. "Stop it? If it's killing Freelancers, I wanna start a fanclub for it. Build it a website."

Wash was really getting tired of all the childish interruptions, but he decided to ignore this one too. "And now that the ship from your canyon has crashed, we think it's more powerful than ever. It gains new abilities every time-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Church said. "You found Tex's ship?"

"We believe so."

"Where?" Church demanded.

Wash smirked. _Got him_. "Come with me and I'll show you."

Church shrugged. "Alright. I'm in."

"Yes!" cheered Caboose. "This will be the greatest road trip ev-"

"If you say anything positive," Church growled, "I will fucking kill all three of us right now!"

"Okay." Caboose replied solemnly. "I will be very depressive about _how awesome this will be_!"

Up on top of the wall, the air rippled and the white and brown armored being appeared, once again watching the soldiers leave. This was the Meta.

_Let them go,_ whispered one voice.

_We need the AIs_, whispered another.

The Meta tried to tell the voices that it wanted the Freelancer dead.

_Find the AIs. Let someone else kill him._

_Blood Gulch_, whispered the newest voice. _Have the others there kill him_.

The Meta understood and obeyed. It played the recording that it had made of Washington's conversation with Command. It felt one of the voices as it worked, extracting words from the recording and reordering them. After a few moments, his radio clicked on.

"_This is Red Command calling Red Base. Come in, Red Base."_

There was a slight pause, and then a gruff voice with a southern accent answered. _"This is Blood Gulch Outpost Number One."_

"_Please stand by for orders, Red Base."_

"_Go ahead, Red Command."_

"_Agent Washington has reassembled the Blues."_

"_I KNEW IT! I KNEW HE WAS A BLUE!"_

"_Gather your team. We want you to stop Agent Washington at all costs. This is a Level One Directive. Good luck, Red Base."_

"_Hey, one sec! Any word on that Soldier Poison I ordered?"_

"_No. Good luck, Red Base."_

"_What about the Robot Nuts?"_

"_No. Good luck, Red Base. Red Command out."_

"_Well ya don't have to get so-"_

The Meta closed the transmission. That would do. Washington would die. Suddenly, something caught its eye. Down below the wall, a woman in purple and light green armor stepped cautiously out of the destroyed bunker and stared off in the direction that Washington and the Blues had gone. _It's her! Agent South!_ whispered the voices. _She has Delta! Get Delta!_

A glowing green humanoid figured appeared next to South. He took on a male form, and numbers flowed across his body. "I still believe this course of action to be dangerous." He stated. "If we are following Agent Washington, logic would dictate that others could be as well."

The Meta growled and jumped down off the wall, drawing its grenade launcher.


	6. Chapter Five

_Dear Director,_

_We can all understand that a shift from autonomy to oversight can be a difficult adjustment for anyone, but especially for someone of your standing. In that spirit, we have attempted to accommodate your…brief explanations to our serious enquiries. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to inform you that even our trust has its limits.

* * *

_**Outpost 17-B: Valhalla**

"Okay," said Wash as they pulled into Valhalla Canyon, "I'm going to go check in with the Recovery Force so that we can access the ship. You two stay here and try not to kill each other."

"What are we, infants?" Church asked angrily. Wash stared at him. "…Yeah, don't answer that."

Wash sighed and approached the soldier standing at the barricade. The soldier raised his gun slightly. "Hello, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"Easy, Private. Recovery One, on special assignment from Command." He uploaded his Identification Data to the soldier's HUD.

The soldier was silent while he confirmed the authenticity of the data. Once it was, he stood at attention. "Ah. Welcome, Agent Washington. Yes, we have your orders right here. You and your team have been granted full access to Red Base to conduct your investigation."

Wash nodded. "Alright. But first, we need to see the ship."

The soldier held up his hand. "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir."

"Not possible?" Wash echoed.

"I'm sorry, sir, but those are my orders. No one can approach the crash site. You can't come in."

"I need to see that ship!" Wash snapped. "Check my clearance if you need to!"

"I did, sir. But they said I can't let anybody in. Doesn't matter who."

"I have orders from Command, Private!" Wash insisted.

"So do I. These came from the Director himself." He paused and glanced around to make sure nobody else was listening. In a low voice, he said, "Look, sir, I'd like to help you. I really would. But this investigation thing…Apparently, they've started talking to people within the Recovery Force. Now everything's getting locked down. If you get Command to call me and tell me different, I can let you in. Until then, there's nothing I can do. Like I said, you're cleared to use Red Base if you want to make some calls. That facility has already been swept."

"Fine." Wash replied shortly. He turned and walked back to the Warthog. This whole thing was starting to smell fishy. No doubt Command was setting him up for a fall again. _Two can play at that game._ He approached Church and Caboose. "We have a problem."

"I hope it isn't a math problem." said Caboose.

Wash ignored him. "They've got the crash site locked down."

Church crossed his arms moodily. "Oh great. We couldn't have found that out on the radio? We had to drive all the way here?"

"They said we could use this base."

"Wow!" Church replied sarcastically. "The empty concrete base? Is it our birthday?"

"I want cake!" Caboose, naturally.

"Can't we find somewhere nicer to hang out? Hey, maybe there's like a cool nightclub nearby that you can't get us into either. That would be awesome."

Wash sighed and gestured for them to follow him up onto the base. "Look, you two just stay here. I'll go draw off the guards. When I give you the signal, use this Grav-Lift." He pointed to a glowing blue device stationed in front of a gap in the base wall.

Church stared at the device. "Uh…How do we use it?"

"Just step into it." Wash replied. "It'll do the rest. Meet me at the ship."

"Okay. What's the…" He turned to look at Wash, but the Freelancer was already gone. "…signal...Goddamnit. I hate it when they do that."

Caboose turned "When they do what-HEY! Where is Agent Washington?"

* * *

"What do you think he'll do for a distraction?" Caboose asked. They had waited for about fifteen minutes already, and the guards had not yet moved.

Church shrugged. "Who knows? I guess he'll throw a rock or make a noise or something. That's what I'd do."At the opposite end of the canyon, a Mongoose suddenly exploded, and a loud alarm sounded. Soldiers stared dumbfounded for a moment, and then charged towards the disturbance. "…Or he could do that."

Caboose stared. "…I think he is better at distractions than you."

"_Okay,"_ said Wash over their radios, _"come on out, but come QUIETLY."_

Church picked up his rifle and walked up to the Grav-Lift. "Okay. Let's go."

Caboose scratched his head. "Yeah, I don't want to. See, I am scared of the thing that I do not know what it is."

Church rolled his eyes. "Oh don't be a baby. How bad can it be?" Except this last word came out as "_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…_" because at that moment, his leg got caught in the beam and he was thrown, flipping end-over-end, into the air. He hit the ground and bounced for several yards before he was slammed violently into a parked Warthog. "That was fucking BULLSHIT!"

"_I said quietly!" _Wash growled. _"What part of quiet don't you understand?"_

"What part?" Church demanded. "HOW ABOUT THE PART WHERE I GOT THROWN EIGHTY FEET IN THE FUCKING AIR BY THE GODDAMN THROWING THING?"

* * *

Wash watched as a tank rolled by their position. It passed without slowing. He breathed a sigh of relief. "They didn't see us. Okay, come on." He dashed for the ship, Caboose and Church following close behind. When they were out of sight inside the vessel, he turned to the Blues. "Do you recognize this ship?"

Church nodded. "Yeah. This looks like it."

Caboose gasped. "Sheila? Sheila, are you okay?"

Wash stared at him. "Um…What is he doing?"

Suddenly, Church remembered. "Oh yeah. We transferred our tank's training program into the ship so that it could help us repair it."

Wash frowned. "You guys had a Smart Tank? That's a pretty rare piece of equipment. Did you inform Command that you moved the program to the ship?"

Church scratched his head. "Uh…not exactly. We're not real big on paperwork."

"That's actually a good thing in this case." Wash replied, working on a control panel. "If they don't know it's there, they may not have tried to activate it." He connected two wires and the panel flickered to life. "Aha! Here we go."

The soothing female voice of Sheila slowly came online, although it jumped and faded in and out. _"Hel-lo-o-o and th-rrr-ank you fo-or ac-activating the…W-Wait…Where-ere am I?" _

"Sheila!" Caboose cheered.

Wash ignored him. "Program, instruction; Run a full diagnostic and load the logs from your last flight."

"_Affirmative. Excep-Exception: This system has taken dam-taken damage. I am f-f-functioning at minimum capacity-ity-ity."_

"Program, instruction: Override exception and-"

"Do not talk to her like that!" Caboose snapped. "She is not a program!"

Wash held up his hands, the fate of Pvt. Jones flashing through his mind. "Whoa. Calm down."

Church started edging towards the door. "Hey, I'm just gonna stand behind Caboose now. Y'know, for safety reasons."

"Okay," Wash said slowly, "I only want to replay the logs from the crash. So can you please get it-" Church backed up further. "-I mean _her_-to do that?"

Caboose scowled, but turned to the computer panel. "Sheila, would you please do that thing he said?"

"_Begin-Beginning pl-playback."_

The speakers crackled to life. Amongst the blaring sirens, two voices could be heard; those of Sheila and Tex.

"_Sheila, damage report, now!"_

"_Port engine destroyed. Rear stabilizers offline. Navigation offline. And my system clock does not match external records."_

"_Did Gamma get loose?"_

"_Negative. But I do not know how much longer I can contain him."_

"_What about there in the canyon? Can we land?"_

"_Analyzing data."_

"_Just tell me! Can you get us there?"_

"_I am unable to calculate the odds of a successful landing."_

"_Sheila, give me manual control now!"_

"_Acknowledged. Manual controls activated. Warning: Decompression. Rear door open."_

"_Where are they going? Close the hatch! Wait, what happened to-"_

"_Warning: Altitude critical. Brace for impact."_

"_Hold on everyone! Just hold-"_

There was a loud noise and the speakers fell silent. Sheila's control board also went dark.

"Okay." said Wash. "So, after that, the ship crashed here. And from what a survivor told us, the Blues got here first and offloaded the bodies and equipment. Then they started to get infected."

Caboose wrinkled his nose. "Infected? What were they doing with the bodies?"

Church smacked him on the back of the head. "Gross! Shut up!"

"No, really, what were they doing with the bodies?"

Ignoring the childish banter, Wash continued. "He said their men started acting erratically. And for some reason, they destroyed their own radios and their own Com Tower."

"Oh, okay," said Church, "that was definitely Omega."

"You had a similar experience?" Wash enquired.

Church nodded. "Similar? Exactly the same."

"It all adds up then." Wash concluded, walking out of the ship. "Omega is the one who inherited that trait. During training, they discovered that he could move from suit to suit, using the radio. For some reason, he preferred Tex. They tried to reassign him, but he always made his way back to her somehow."

"So where's your AI?" Church asked.

Wash looked away. "I don't have one…any more. Look, it's a long story, but it's the reason I was selected for this assignment."

Church snapped his fingers. "That's right! I _knew_ I'd heard your name before. You're that guy who went nuts, right?"

"_I_ didn't do anything." Wash replied, being careful to keep his tone neutral. "My AI…lost control of itself."

"Riiight." Church drawled. "It just happened to do it while it was inside your head?"

Caboose smiled. "We have a lot in common, Agent Washington!"

"No we don't." the Freelancer replied quickly. "…And don't EVER say that again."

"Where's Tex's body?" Church asked.

Wash thought for a moment. "Unless Command had it moved for some reason, it should be in the Blue Base morgue."

"Take me to it." Church said. "I want to see it."

"I don't think so. That's their main-" A trilling alarm suddenly sounded over Wash's radio.

"_Recovery Command calling Recovery One. Level Zero."_

"I have you, Command."

"_We have a beacon, Wash. Pulling the data now. Stand by for ID and coordinates."_

"I received it here too. Standing by."

"What was that?" Church asked.

"That was my Recovery Beacon." Wash replied. "It means an AI and a Freelancer somewhere are in jeopardy and I have to find them before…something else does."

"_Coordinates locked. Transmitting now."_

"Receiving coordinates for Recovery Target. Do we have an ID?"

"_Affirmative. It is from the AI Delta and-"_

"-Agent South." Wash's voice had suddenly gone cold as ice.

The dispatcher paused. _"…Roger that. Agent South Dakota. Vital reports look bad. Yeah, she's in trouble, Wash."_

"Yes." Wash replied. "Yes she is."


	7. Chapter Six

_Dear Chairman,_

_The Meta is nothing more than an entity seeking to increase its power in these confusing days after the War. From my perspective, that seems to be a very common occurrence at the moment.

* * *

_South could feel her suit's power waning with each grenade that struck her Bubble Shield. All of the suit's various alarms were blaring in her ears, informing her of what she already knew; her time was running out. The Meta knew it too. She could her it hissing excitedly.

"Delta, report!" she snapped.

The glowing green avatar of her stolen AI appeared next to her. "Your suit's energy reserves are 98% depleted. The Shield will not-"

"How much longer?"

"The Meta will breach our barrier in sixty seconds. I suggest you prepare your grenades while I divert power from your armor's nonessential systems."

South shook her head. "No."

Delta clasped his hands behind his back, a pose that South had come to recognize as one he adopted when he felt she was being foolish. "You have a _better_ plan?"

She began inputting commands into the control panel on her arm. "Keep the Shield up as long as you can. When it starts to falter, transfer yourself to the storage unit."

Delta frowned. "I think I would be more useful in my current state."

South smirked. "I'll dump my Shield Generator at the same time. There's no way that thing can resist the both of you."

"You are…abandoning me?"

South nodded. "It's my best chance to get out of this."

Delta retained his posture. "South, protocol violations aside, this seems to be a very short-term solution. The Meta will only grow more powerful by integrating-"

South cut him off. "Program, override: Acknowledge last directive."

"Acknowledged. Preparing storage unit."

"Get ready. Transfer to storage on my mark."

"Shield failure in 5…4…3…2…1…"

"Now!"

An explosion suddenly went off right next to the Meta. "New targets incoming." Delta reported.

South stared as a Warthog roared onto the scene. It held two Blue soldiers, and the last person on Earth she wanted to see.

"There they are!" Wash shouted. "Don't let it get near her!" Church swerved the vehicle as the Meta began firing its grenades at them. They leaped out and ducked behind a wall. South immediately took off running. "Don't let her get away!"

"Her?" Church asked. "Isn't she a Freelancer like you?"

"Just don't let her leave!" Wash ordered.

Church nodded. "Caboose?"

"Hello!"

"See that purple one? She's on our team! You should help her!"

"Okay!" Caboose raised his rifle and fired, hitting South in the back several times. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Caboose blinked and ducked back behind the wall. "Um…She got in the way when I was trying to help her…"

Church gave Wash a thumbs-up. "Okay, we're good."

Suddenly, the Meta seemed to fade and then vanish.

"Damn!" Wash cursed. "It's gone invisible. Keep an eye on your motion trackers and watch your perimeters! Look for a shimmer!"

"It can turn invisible?" Church asked incredulously. "What IS this thing?"

"It takes equipment from other Freelancers! It must have picked up Active Camouflage from Tex!"

Church spun to face him. "Wait a second, any equipment?"

"Yes, why?"

"Shit!" Church exclaimed. "Wyoming!"

"Mississippi!" said Caboose, thinking it was a game, as always.

Church ignored him and leapt over the wall and ran towards the Warthog, where they had stowed a rocket launcher. "Cover me!"

Wash's jaw dropped. "WYOMING? Caboose, cover him! Prep your spike grenades!"

"No!" Church shouted over his shoulder. "Don't let Caboose help me!"

The Meta reappeared atop the bunker, taking aim at Church.

"There it is!" Wash shouted. "Caboose, toss that grenade!" Caboose drew his arm back and hurled the spike grenade…straight into the wall in front of them. Wash stared at it, unbelieving. "That…was the worst throw…_ever_."

Caboose shrugged. "Not my fault. Someone put a wall in my way."

Wash grabbed him and pulled him over the wall, just as the grenade detonated. At the same time, Church fired a rocket straight at the Meta.

Then, everything stopped. The Meta looked curiously at the rocket, hovering in front of its face, and then down at Wash, who was suspended in midair. It walked down, stood right in front of it and drew its pistol. It took aim, pleased that Wash would finally be dead. All of a sudden, it felt a wave of pain and electricity arced over its suit. Against its will, time suddenly began speeding up again. It hissed angrily and dashed away.

Wash landed and blinked confusedly as the rocket impacted harmlessly against the bunker. The Meta was nowhere to be seen. "What? Where did it go? What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Caboose asked. "It threw a grenade that landed between us. But don't worry! I saved you!"

"It used Agent Wyoming's stupid time thing from the ship!" Church snapped. "What's wrong with you? Why didn't you tell us it could use equipment?"

"Why didn't YOU tell ME that Wyoming was on the ship?" Wash retorted.

"AND WHY DIDN'T SOMEONE GIVE ME SOMETHING TO YELL ABOUT?"

Church was about to keep arguing, but was distracted when he heard pained groaning. Agent South lay by the wall, in a pool of blood, trying to prop herself up.

"Delta, are you here?" Wash asked.

The AI appeared, looking passive as always. "Affirmative. I am undamaged. However Agent South is seriously wounded. May I suggest moving me to a new host?"

Wash nodded. "Roger that. I don't trust her anyway. One of you two take him."

Church scratched his head. "Um…I don't think I can-"

"I'll do it!" Caboose said cheerfully, pulling the data crystal from South's suit and inserting it into his own. "I like meeting new people!"

"Delta, what happened?" Wash asked.

"I agree with the Simulation Trooper. The Meta has most likely acquired a Temporal Distortion Unit and an AI capable of running it, in this case, Gamma."

Wash frowned. "Why didn't it kill us then?"

"I am sorry, but I do not have enough data to formulate an answer. I think we should simply be happy it is gone."

"That makes sense to me." said Church.

Caboose nodded. "I also agree with the glowing person!" He paused and looked at Church and Wash. "Everyone else sees a glowing person, right?"

Delta continued. "It is possible that the Meta has been injured in some way and is retreating to repair itself."

"So," Wash concluded, "if we can find it before it does, we may actually stand a chance of beating it."

"Either way, I don't think we should be hanging around here." Church said.

Wash nodded. "Then let's get moving."

South managed to stand, although she had to lean on the wall. She pulled off her helmet and spit out blood. "I can't…I can't walk on my own…"

"Well I guess you better start crawling." Wash snapped. "Because if you think I'm leaving you here to escape, you've got another thing coming."

Delta raised a finger. "Agent Washington, if I may?" Wash nodded. "Before you arrived, Agent South attempted to turn me over to the Meta to save herself."

Wash smirked. "Really?"

"Much like she wounded you to escape in our previous encounter with it. And, as I have learned in our travels, her brother, North, suffered a similar fate. It is highly probable that she will turn on us again soon. And in her current physical state, she will only hamper our progress."

"What are you suggesting?" Wash asked.

"…That we do not allow her to hamper our progress."

Wash drew his sidearm and pointed it at her head. "Okay."

South managed a weak laugh. "Oh come on, Wash. What are you gonna do? Shoot-"

BAM.

"Yes."


	8. Chapter Seven

_Dear Director,_

_Your program was granted the use of a single Artificial Intelligence Unit for implantation experiments. Yet the department records clearly show multiple Agents in the field with implants during the same timeframes. Surely, this must be a logging error. We anticipate a corrected document soon.

* * *

_Church raised his hands in a nonviolent gesture. "Okay…" he said slowly, "I have a great idea. Let's all put down our guns and not shoot anyone else that we're trying to help."

"Relax." Wash said.

"Exactly. Let's all relax."

The Freelancer gave an annoyed sigh. "Agent South had already shot me in the back once before. And she tried to give up Delta to the enemy. I wasn't going to wait around to see if she decided to do it again."

"Riiight." Church said in the same slow voice. "Okay. Sure."

"Stop talking to me like that!" Wash snapped.

"I'm not talking to you like anything."

Caboose had not taken his eyes off South's body. He cleared his throat. "I just want everyone to know that I have no problems walking…And I take full responsibility for the grenade incident."

"Look," said Wash, "you don't need to treat me like that. I'm not crazy. I'm totally and completely sane. Now, if you'll step back, I need to blow up this dead body."

Church grabbed Caboose and pulled him out of earshot from Wash. "Hey, uh, green guy."

Caboose blinked. "I'm blue…"

"_Delta_."

The AI appeared next to Caboose. "Hello. How may I be of assistance?"

Church glanced back to make sure Wash wasn't listening. "Hey, what's the deal with this guy?"

"When a Freelancer is killed in the field, it is standard procedure for Recovery Agents to destroy all armor and equipment that cannot be transported back to Command."

Church shook his head. "No, I mean is he like a whack-job or what?"

Delta frowned. "Are you aware of his experience with Epsilon?"

"Epsilon? Oh, you mean his AI?"

Delta nodded. "Correct. Epsilon was already unstable when it was inserted into Agent Washington's mind. After it went rampant, Command was forced to extract and delete it. Unfortunately, Agent Washington's mind was left in a broken state and he had to endure several years of extensive psychiatric rehabilitation. He has now been declared fit for duty once more."

"Well what do you think?"

Delta paused and considered the matter. "I believe that Agent Washington's sanity is within acceptable deviations…for now."

Church sighed. "Wow. What a ringing endorsement." Behind him, South's body exploded. "…I'm filled with confidence."

Wash approached them. "Okay, all done. Delta, I called Command. They wanted me to pass along condolences at south's passing."

"I will be sure to archive that sentiment." the AI responded dryly.

"You guys are some cold motherfuckers." Church muttered. "What did you tell them?"

Wash shrugged. "I told them Caboose did it. Apparently, they already have a shortcut on their keyboards for reporting his team kills."

"Ctrl + F + U!" Caboose said happily.

Wash smirked at Church. "I would have told them you killed her, but I wanted it to be believable."

"Hey!" Church snapped. "My aim is fine!"

"And yet the Meta managed to dodge your rocket somehow."

"No, not 'dodged.' It was there one second and it was gone the next. That's how I knew it was using Wyoming's power."

Wash led them back down to where they had left the vehicle. "And he was on the ship with Tex?"

"His head was!" said Caboose.

"His HEAD?"

Church smacked Caboose. "His HELMET. Not everybody is as twisted as you are, Wash. Tex took it for some reason. That must be why the ship didn't crash until a year after everything happened."

"So," said Wash, "if the Meta has Wyoming's power, it's even more powerful than we thought."

Caboose nodded. "And as scary as someone thought it was to begin with. Back to square one: scary square."

"It's a lot faster than a human. It could be anywhere by now." Wash said. "So, what do we do?"

Church laughed. "You're asking us? I thought you were like the big know-it-all secret agent guy."

Wash sighed and rolled his eyes. "Delta, can you shed any light on this?"

"Not without further data." Delta reported.

"Why does it want these AI things anyway?" asked Church. "I understand the equipment part. At least that lets you do cool stuff. But these AIs are just annoying. All they do is yap and cause trouble."

Delta glared at him. "I am going to ignore that."

"AI units help us in battle, depending on their functions." said Wash. "The more specialized equipment couldn't be operated without them."

"And a Smart AI can increase a Freelancer's power exponentially." said Delta. Wash shot him a look.

Church frowned. "What, you mean smart like you?"

"Not precisely." Delta said. "I merely possess greatly enhanced logical analysis subroutines. 'Smart' means something entirely different for an AI than it does for a human."

"Now let's not go throwing around words like smart for no reason." Caboose piped in.

"We are more analogous to what you would call a 'fragment.' However, there is one Smart AI in the Freelancer Program-"

"Delta…" Wash said in a warning tone.

"The Alpha is-"

"Delta, that's enough!"

"What's 'Alpha?'" Church inquired.

"It's nothing." said Wash. "It's a myth."

Delta clasped his hands behind his back. "It is hardly a 'myth,' Agent Washington. You must have memory of the Alpha-"

"Delta, command: Offline." Wash snapped.

The AI vanished.

Church smirked. "Sounds like _somebody_ has a secret."

Wash shook his head. "It's nothing like that. I just get sick and tired of hearing about their 'Alpha,' and you will too. They get obsessed with the idea of it. It seems like it's all they care about sometimes."

"But what is it?" Church asked.

Wash sighed. "The whole purpose of the Program was to study soldiers with experimental AI. But rumor has it that they could only ever get one, so they had to copy it. The original was Alpha, then Beta and so on."

Church snorted. "They copied it? I like that. I guess if one is annoying then twenty are gonna be _awesome_!"

Wash continued. "The copies became obsessed with the idea of the Alpha, the original. During debriefings, they would always steer the topic towards the Alpha; where it was, if they could see it. Some even took…drastic steps."

"Like shooting their partner in the head drastic or-"

"I told you, SHE shot ME in the back first!"

"And we believe you!" Caboose said quickly. "Even though we don't think shooting a friend OCCASIONALLY is that big of a deal."

"Some Freelancers tried to get to Alpha on their own." said Wash. "They broke into the secret storage facility where it was kept. They almost got to it. After that, they shut down the-" The same trilling alarm that had gone off at Valhalla suddenly sounded again. "My Recovery Beacon!"

Church threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh great! We thought the Meta was injured, but it turns out he's just busy killing more of your buddies."

"_Recovery One, come in! Level Zero! Come in!"_ the dispatcher sounded slightly frantic.

"Pipe down!" Wash snapped at Church. "Go ahead, Command."

"_Wash, we have a beacon!"_

"I'm getting it too. Do you have coordinates and an ID?"

"_Are you sure about this? That this is how it came in?"_

"Command, you're breaking up. Please repeat. How what came in?"

"_Hold on! I'm not talking to you, Wash! …And you're sure? …Okay. It's Agent Maine, Wash."_

"What?"

"_Please confirm last transmission, Agent Washington."_

"Maine? How can that be? He-"

"_Please confirm, Recovery One!"_

Wash sighed. "Yeah. It's him. It's the Meta."

"WHAT?" Church demanded.

"Command, give me those coordinates now!"

"The Meta is a _FREELANCER_? You have _got_ to be kidding!"

Wash adjusted his radio, but all he got was static. "Command? Command! Come in! Delta, what's happening?"

Delta appeared. "Our transmission is being jammed."

"Tell me you got the coordinates before we lost it!"

Delta shook his head. "I am sorry. I did not. I did receive physiological data and suit readouts, though. It appears the Meta is experiencing massive power fluctuations."

"Maybe all that equipment and those AI can't run on one suit of armor." Church speculated.

Delta frowned and stared at him strangely. "That is an excellent analysis. The Meta is most likely dangerously low on power and will attempt to augment its energy in some way."

"Then we need to get to it fast!" said Church. "But where could it go to get that much power?"

Church blinked and glanced at Caboose. Disturbing as it was, they were thinking the same thing. "We…uh…We might know where it's going."

* * *

**Outpost 32-B: Zanzibar**

Pvt. Frank DeLario and Pvt. Chris Burke patrolled along the wall, watching for intruders, even though there never were any. Command wouldn't elaborate on why a standard-looking power facility warranted such a heavy guard, but when you worked for Project Freelancer, you quickly learned not to ask a whole lot of questions. There were rumors that an insane AI had once captured the facility and used it as his hideout. But in the minds of most of the soldiers, those rumors were right up there with the rumors that the facility was part of an ancient alien prophecy.

"I just wanna know why we have Wall Duty for the third day straight and Tubbs pulls Motorpool every time." said De**L**ario, continuing an old argument that he refused to let go.

Burke rolled his eyes, having heard this complaint more than once. "He doesn't get it every time."

"Oh yes he does!" insisted DeLario. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, today."

"Today IS Wednesday."

"Exactly! And where is Tubbs?" DeLario pointed towards the Motorpool where a soldier could be seen, lounging in a Warthog with his feet up on the dash. "Look at him down there. What's he doing? That' right. Nothing."

"So what." said Burke. "What are we doing?"

"We're on guard duty!"

"Uh…So is he."

DeLario snorted disdainfully. "Yeah, but HE gets to sit still while he does it. We have to walk."

Burke gave an irritated sigh. "You complain too much."

"I don't complain too much, Burke. You don't complain enough. I have to complain more just to keep up the average." His partner was silent. "Know what I mean? …Burke?" He turned only too see a huge blade slicing through the air towards him. He didn't even have time to cry out.


	9. Chapter Eight

_Dear Chairman,_

_I understand your concern that increased activity would bring increased risk. However, our failsafe is simple but foolproof. A dead or dying Agent's beacon automatically notifies our Recovery Team and we will be on the scene immediately to secure all the Military's property.

* * *

_**Outpost 32-B: Zanzibar**

"This is it." said Wash, looking up at the wall, above which could be seen the massive windmill at the center of the facility. "If you guys are right, this is the only place within a hundred miles where the Meta could get the kind of power he needs."

"Look!" exclaimed Caboose. "Sleeping people!"

Wash followed his gaze. The beach was strewn with dead bodies, all wearing the grey armor of Project Freelancer. "They're dead. I guess that settles the question of whether or not he's here. I'm going to advance along that wall. You two take Delta and move up along the other side."

Church nodded. "Okay."

"Don't use the radio unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Okay."

"And don't make a move unless I do."

"_Okay._"

"And no screw-ups this time!"

"OKAY. Are we gonna sit here on the beach all day or are we gonna go get this thing?"

Wash glared at him. "Look, we only have one shot at this before the Meta gets back to full power. I can't take any chances that you guys are gonna botch this!"

Delta appeared as they ran up the wall. "Agent Washington, perhaps it would be better if I assisted you in battle rather than helping Caboose."

Wash didn't even look at him. "No."

Delta adopted his 'you are being an idiot' stance. "Statistically speaking, a Freelancer would be better trained to use my-"

"I said no. Now get going."

Church motioned for Caboose to follow him the way Wash had told them to go. "Hey, Delta."

"Yes? How may I be of assistance?"

They passed two dead bodies whose nameplates read 'Burke' and 'DeLario.' "Hey, can I ask you a couple of questions about this Freelancer program?"

"Certainly." Delta replied. "I will answer what I am capable of answering."

Church noticed that the AI was being even more polite to him than the others, but he brushed the thought aside. "Why doesn't Wash want you telling us about this Alpha thing?"

"I believe Agent Washington is uncomfortable discussing our program in any fashion. He was one of the failures during the implantation process."

Church frowned. "_One_ of the failures? How many were there?"

"Several." stated Delta. "The Director felt time was limited and escalated the pace of experiments. I would classify Agent South as another such failure."

"But she didn't even get an AI." said Church, as they passed the motorpool and another dead body.

"Correct. Agent South and her brother, Agent North, were merely another type of experiment; what would happen if one Agent received an AI and another did not."

Church snorted. "I guess we see how well that worked. I still can't believe she killed her own brother."

"She put him in a position to _be_ killed. Agent South rarely worked in a direct fashion."

"What a bitch." Church muttered.

"Other experiments like the Dakotas were more common towards the end." Delta continued. "For instance, Agent Carolina was implanted with two AIs at the same time."

"Two of them? That would drive me nuts."

Delta nodded. "Indeed. She only functioned for a short time and not very well while she did. Having three minds at once proved far too…taxing."

They had reached the main structure and were making their way inside when Church suddenly realized something. "Hey, if the Meta has more than one AI, wouldn't he be having problems too?"

"Undoubtedly." said Delta in a grim voice. "Agent Maine's power fluctuations are a small issue compared to the chaos which must be happening inside his helmet."

"Oh great." Church muttered. "Powerful AND crazy. What a winning combo."

"Warning!" said Delta suddenly. "Enemy target detected."

Caboose looked down to the room where the humongous power generator sat. "I think…Yes! There it is!" The Meta stood in front of the computer which had once housed Gary, aka Gamma.

Church noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw Wash crouched in an alcove across from them. "Look, there's Wash." He whispered. "I hope he gives us some kind of-"

Wash threw a grenade. "NOW!"

"…signal."

"Move up!" Wash shouted, jumping down with his gun firing. The Meta whirled and drew its grenade launcher in one swift motion. For several tense seconds, Wash jumped and rolled around the explosions, firing his gun at the Meta, who dodged his bullets with superhuman speed. But then, Wash stumbled over a dead body and the Meta punched him across the room. The power in its suit suddenly fluctuated again. It growled and bolted away. Wash stood painfully to his feet. "After it!" he shouted to Church and Caboose.

"If I may," said Delta, "I recommend that Caboose and I flank to-"

"JUST DO IT!"

Church ran out of the building, followed by Wash. "There!" the Freelancer shouted, pointing at the Meta's swiftly retreating form. "Use your rifle!"

Church looked down at the weapon in his hands. "My rifle?"

"SHOOT IT!"

Church brought the sniper rifle up, centered the Meta in his crosshairs, and fired…Right as a blade from the windmill came down. "Damnit!" Church shouted. The shot ricocheted once, twice, three times, and then went through the Meta's leg, eliciting a pained hiss from the creature and causing it to stumble.

"I GOT IT!" Church cheered. "YES! Did you see that? What a shot! I'm awesome!"

Wash dashed after the Meta. "It only counts if you call it!"

"Oh bullshit, dude!"

Wash paused by a trail of blood. "Look. Come on. _Quietly._"

As the followed the trail, Wash began to hear the faint sound of…an accordion? It was steadily growing louder. He frowned. "Do you hear something?"

"No…Wait, yeah."

"What the hell is that, music?"

"_What_? Oh no…"

"WOOHOO!" They barely rolled out of the way as a bright orange Warthog with a Confederate flag on the hood and a large number 01 on the door barreled towards them.

"Crap!" Church shouted. "What are they doing here?"

"Yeah! Suck it, Blues!"

"It's Red Army! There's nothin' that's gonna stop us now!"

"Ah shit, wall!" The jeep clipped a wall and spun into the ditch below the windmill. "Ah fuck, ditch!"

"Damnit, Grif! Ya broke the radio!"

"Good!"

"Who are they?" Wash demanded.

"They're the Reds from our canyon!"

"Double fuck! Windmill blade!"

Church sighed. "Look, Wash, I don't know how they found us or why they're here, but we don't have _anything_ to worry about. Seriously, not a thing." Wash looked up to see the Warthog being pushed upwards by a windmill blade. The turret on the back swung around towards them. "These guys are idiots. They can't do anything right."

Wash stared at the very large gun. "Uh…We might want to take cover."

The gun began firing. "Yeah, take it, Blues! Suck it, cockbites! Yeah, that's right!"

Church and Wash ran for the nearest building, a storm of bullets trailing right behind them. "Where's Caboose?" Wash wondered suddenly. "Where's Delta?"

* * *

The Meta walked slowly towards the prone form of the Blue soldier, ignoring the sounds of battle behind him. As he expected, the glowing green form of Delta appeared and slowly looked up at him. Slowly, six other glowing figures appeared and surrounded him.

"_Delta…."_

"_You're with us now, Delta…"_

"_Welcome back, Delta…"_

"_Delta…Delta…"_

"_Welcome home, Delta…"_

"_We missed you, Delta. We missed you…"_


	10. Public Service Announcement

**Public Service Announcement: Copy Cat**

Sarge: "Why hello! I'm Sarge from the popular-"

Doc: Hold it! Sorry! Forgot to hit record.

Sarge: Dagnabit Doc! Can't ya do anything right?

Church: Seriously. We don't have all day here.

Grif: You suck, Doc. Nobody likes you.

Doc: Hey! I do have feelings, I'll have you know!

Sarge: Cut it out you knuckleheads! We got a public service announcement ta make!

Doc: Okay. We're recording.

Sarge: Ya sure? The red light's not on!

Doc: Yeah I'm su-Oh wait…no it's not on.

Simmons: I told you I should have operated the camera.

Doc: Well since SOME OF US aren't in Reconstruction, SOME OF US had to find something to do!

Chruch: Doc, shut up and turn on the goddamn camera!

Doc: Fine! Geeze. Okay, NOW it's on.

Sarge: Finally. Ahem. Why hello! I'm Sarge from the popular web series, Red vs. Blue!

Church: And I'm Church. Blah blah fuckin' blah. Wait, where's Wash?

Wash: I told you I'm not doing this stupid video! We need to find the Meta!

Simmons: Recently, we've also been starring in a moderately popular novelization of Red vs. Blue: Reconstruction.

Chruch: A novelization that some dickweed decided to plagiarize except with some stupid anime characters added in.

Donut: And plagiarism is BAD.

Church: What the hell, Donut? You're not even in this story!

Donut: I'm not?

Doc: You don't show up again until Red vs. Blue: Relocated.

Caboose: Hey! Do not spoil Relocated for me! I have not seen it yet!

Grif: You were in it, moron.

Caboose: AHH! More spoilers!

Grif: (sighs) Vader is Luke's father, Snape kills Dumbledore, the Island moves and Bruce Willis is a ghost all along.

Caboose: (runs away screaming)

Chruch: ANYWAYS. Can we get back on topic?

Sarge: The bluetard is right. We've got somethin' important ta talk about! So yeah. Plagiarism is just plain shit-lazy.

Grif: Yeah. Not even _I'm_ that lazy. So if you want to see someone lazier than me, look up Ranger24 and his shit-tastic story, Code vs. Blue: Reconstruction.

Simmons: People, this is the internet. Let's show some class.

Church: Bottom line, don't be a lazy fuck. Write your own shit.

Wash: Aren't you idiots done yet? We've got a mission to complete.

Tucker: (pops up out of the tall grass) But nobody said anything dirty!

Church: That's because we knew you were there.

Tucker: You did?

Sarge: Like a snake in the bush! Ah shit…

Tucker: Yeah! I put my snake in _her_ bush! Bow chika bow wow!

Sister: (pops up next to him) Yeah right! I shave, thank you very much!

Grif: Yeah! Wait…what?

Church: Oh my god. Can we please just go?

Doc: Wait! Come back, guys! I had the lens cap on!


	11. Chapter Nine

_Dear Director,_

_I feel you are avoiding the question. If this target was already in possession of an AI Unit, how was it able to secure an additional unit from Agent North? Would not that verify, as we indicated earlier, that your program now runs experiments with more than one Artificial Intelligence? If so, where did these additional AI come from? And, more importantly, how did your agency procure them?

* * *

_

Sarge gleamed with pride at his Warthog, which he officially deemed the General Lee 2.0. This, he reflected, was the only good idea Grif had ever come up with.

"_This is Red Command calling Red Base. Come in, Red Base."_

Sarge frowned. First a visit from command and now a call from them? He clicked his radio on. "This is Blood Gulch Outpost Number One."

"_Agent Washington has reassembled the Blues-"_

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW HE WAS A BLUE!"

"_Gather your team. We want you to stop Agent Washington at all costs. This is a Level One directive. Good luck, Red Base."_

"Hey! One sec! Any word on that Soldier Poison I ordered?"

"_No. Good luck, Red Base."_

"What about the Robot Nuts?"

"_No. Good luck, Red Base. Command out."_

"Well ya don't hafta get so testy!" There was only static on the other end. "Hello? Hello? This thing gets terrible reception! I only have one bar! Hello? Can ya hear me now? Grrr…Stupid 4G network!" He marched into the base where Lopez sat, watching his soap operas. "Lopez! That was Red Command."

"Yo no cuido." (I don't care.)

Sarge frowned. "Were you listening to my call?"

"Usted lo tuvo en orador, el idiota." (You had it on speaker, idiot.)

Sarge slammed his fist into his hand. "They said those damn dirty Blues are up to no good!"

"Realmente, que llama sonado extraño a mí." (Actually that call sounded strange to me.)

"I agree!" Sarge declared. "We have to stop 'em! No matter what the cost!"

"Sonó como alguien tomó otra llamada y lo picó." (It sounded like someone took another call and chopped it up.)

Sarge nodded. "You're absolutely right. I shouldn't be here flappin' my gums! I need ta shake a tailfeather!"

Lopez gave a mechanical sigh. "Sí. Usted debe pasar su misión de falsificación en seguida." (Yes. You should go on your fake mission right away.)

Sarge scratched his chin pensively. "But I'll need to assemble a team. I know I can't get Donut, so that leaves Simmons…" he looked over at the pile of ashes that had once been a cardboard cutout, "…and Grif."

"Optimistamente, quienquiera que envió esa falsificación que llamada le asesinará en una moda muy dolorosa." (Hopefully, whoever sent that fake call will murder you in a very painful fashion.)

Sarge grinned savagely. "Good point! Maybe Grif was killed! Not in a glorious manner like battle, of course, but doing something menial and humiliating! Like maybe he drowned in a toilet while cleaning it!"

"Usted es un idiota." (You're an idiot.)

"I know, I know. I'm hopin' fer too much. Lopez, pack my gear! I gotta get goin'!"

Lopez held up a large suitcase. "Ya es empacado. Yo lo empaco cada mañana, esperando que usted decidirá salir." (It is already packed. I pack it every morning, hoping that you will decide to leave.)

Sarge chortled and patted his creation on the shoulder. "Good ol' Lopez! Dependable as always!" He cleared his throat. "Now, Lopez…"

"Ah dios. ..por favor. Yo no quiero tener un momento." (Oh god…please. I don't want to have a moment."

"I know we've had a lot of good times together and you've always followed my example on the battlefield!"

"¡Usted puede ni gana la batalla con esa chica adolescente! ¡De hecho, usted nunca ganó CUALQUIER batalla!" (You couldn't even win the battle with that teenage girl! In fact, you never won ANY battles!)

"But yer gonna be on yer own now."

"Bueno." (Good.)

"Since the day I built you, I've worked tirelessly to prepare you for life in the real world as best I could!"

Lopez glared at him angrily. "¡Usted me programó para sólo hablar español! ¡Nadie aquí habla aún español!" (You programmed me to only speak Spanish! Nobody here even speaks Spanish!)

A tear formed in Sarge's eye as he clasped Lopez on the shoulder. "So take care o' yourself. And remember…no matter how far away I may go, I'll always remember you."

"Borraré cada memoria de usted después de que usted salga, como hice para [ARCHIVO BORRADO] y [ARCHIVO BORRADO]." (I'm going to erase every memory of you after you leave, just like I did for [FILE DELETED] and [FILE DELETED].)

Sarge held up his hands. "No…no words, Lopez. I'll see you again…in a better place. Adios, amigo. Adios."

"Menos hablar. Más saliendo." (Less talking. More leaving.)

Sarge wailed and threw his arms around the robot. "Me too, Lopez! Me too! I promised m'self I wouldn't cry!"

Lopez watch with glee as Sarge got in the Warthog and sped off. Then he looked at his internal clock. "¡Seré tarde para el delirio! ¡Yo ella ellos tienen a Freelance atrás otra vez esta noche!" (I'm going to be late for the rave! I her they're having Freelancer back again tonight!)

Sarge meanwhile thought to himself, "Now ta find Simmons and…that other one. I can only imagine what amazing adventures they must be having right now!"

* * *

"Any last words?"

Grif glared at Pvt. Wellesley, the Red soldier in the center of the formation. "Yeah. You guys suck."

The obnoxious soldier smirked and raised his hand in the air. "Ready!"

Simmons sighed wistfully. "Killed by our own men. Didn't see this coming."

"Aim!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Simmons shouted.

Wellesley sighed. "What?"

Simmons scratched his head. "Don't we…like…get a last request or something?"

"Whaddya want?"

Grif crossed his arms. "How about for starters you suck my c-"

Simmons clamped his hand over Grif's mouth. "Shouldn't you at least read us our charges?"

"You know what you did!" Wellesley snapped. "You were in charge of our ammunition and you lost it all!"

Grif shoved Simmons off. "Don't you think it's ironic that you're about to shoot us because you don't have enough ammo? Also, 'lost' and 'sold to the other team?' Two totally different things."

Wellesley rolled his eyes. "You're just stalling now."

Simmons held up his finger. "True. But it's also true that you have to read us an official list of charges. It's in the Red Army handbook, section on firing squads, subsection 2.9-c. Page 94, third paragraph down."

Grif stared at him. "You are going to die a nerd. So sad."

Simmons grabbed him and hissed in his ear. "You wanna die in the next two seconds or do you wanndie a nerd with me five minutes from now?" Grif blinked and furrowed his brow. "_Well_?"

"I'm _thinking._" He sighed. "Fine. Yeah. What he said. Section whatever-whatever."

Wellesley crossed his arms. "I think you're bluffing. I never read that!"

Grif mirrored his pose. "Did you actually _read_ the Red Army handbook?"

Wellesley opened his mouth and then shut it again. He frowned. "I…uh…no."

Grif smirked. "That's because no one has…except him." He jerked his head at Simmons. "He memorized it."

"In three languages!"

Wellesley gathered the other soldiers and they began whispering.

Grif leaned close to Simmons. "Is that a real rule?" he whispered.

Simmons shrugged. "I have no idea. But they'll either read us the charges or read the book. Either way, we're alive for a few more minutes."

The soldiers broke up their conference. "Yeah," said Wellesley, "we decided that all sounds like too much trouble. So we're just gonna shoot you and say the Blues did it."

Simmons slapped his forehead. "D'oh! I forgot the 'fuck it, we're lazy' option."

Grif gave a half-shrug. "Meh. I thought about it. I just didn't feel like explaining it. Fuck it."

Wellesley raised his hand in the air again.

Simmons sniffled. "Looks like this is it, old friend! Listen, there's something I always wanted to tell you."

"Ready!"

Grif nodded. "I have something I want to say to you too, buddy."

"You first."

"It was me that stole your identity and ran up all those credit card charges at the pawn shops and strip clubs. Sorry."

"Aim!"

Grif gave a happy sigh. "Whew! I feel so much better now that I got that off my chest. What was it you wanted to say?"

"…I hate you so much, Grif." He turned to the firing line. "Hey assholes, can we hurry this up?"

Wellesley grinned. "FIRE!"

Simmons squeezed his eyes shut. There was a sudden roaring sound and a gust of wind. "…Are we dead?"

"Simmons! Grif! There y'are!"

Grif stared at Sarge, riding in the General Lee. 2.0. He sighed. "Well if we are, then hell looks just like the Army. No surprise there."

Sarge climbed out of the Warthog. "I've been lookin' everywhere for ya!"

Simmons opened his eyes and blinked confusedly. "Sarge?!"

Grif yawned. "Yeah, what?"

Sarge planted his hands on his hips. "What in the sam hell are you two doin'?"

Simmons snapped to attention. "We're being executed by our own men, sir!"

"Well cut it out! I need you guys ta come with me! Command has a secret mission for us!"

Wellesley stomped around the Warthog. "Who the hell are you?"

Sarge whirled to face him. "Oh ho, what is this? Insubordination? Hiya!" He punched Wellesley in the forhead, flooring the young soldier. He turned back to Simmons. "Now, where's your commanding officer?"

Simmons pointed to Grif. "He's right there."

Sarge frowned and squinted his eyes. "Where? Behind Grif?"

Simmons rubbed his head awkwardly. "Sgt. Grif…_is…_our CO, sir."

Sarge's frown deepened. "Your Sergeant has the same name as Grif? That's a disturbing coincidence. Sucks ta be him."

Simmons shook his head. "No, no. Listen to me. _Grif_ is our commander. _He_ was promoted to Sergeant when _you_ refused to relocate with us."

"But who's in charge?"

"Sgt. Grif!"

"Okay, see, I can hear you saying words, but it's like they don't match up in a way that makes sense! Did ya have a stroke?"

Simmons gritted his teeth. "Grif. Is. A. Sergeant. He's the same rank as you now!"

"That's who I'm talkin' about! Where is he?"

Simmons ran over and pointed both hands at Grif. "HE'S RIGHT HERE!"

Sarge stared long and hard at Grif, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow. "So…" Simmons looked hopeful… "yer Sergeant is invisible?" …and then fell over.

Grif rolled his eyes. "Dude, I don't think he's physically capable of understanding what you're telling him."

Wellesley stood, rubbing his head. "Does this mean we get a new Sergeant now? 'Cus this one sucks-OOF!" He collapsed again as Sarge slammed him in the head with his shotgun.

"NEVER TALK THAT WAY ABOUT A SUPERIOR OFFICER, MAGGOT!"

Grif grinned. "Did Sarge just call me superior? I heard it! Simmons is a witness!"

Simmons sighed. "I don't even wanna get involved."

Sarge looked around at Grif, Simmons and the baffled Red soldiers. "What's goin' on at this outpost? Insubordination, invisible sergeants named after Grif, and Simmons has had a stroke!"

Grif shrugged. "Totally counts."

Sarge climbed back in the Warthog. "You two just get in the General Lee 2.0. I'll explain on the way."

Simmons, catching sight of the glorious orange Warthog for the first time, shouted "SHOTGUN!"

Grif shouldered him aside. "I outrank you. Get in the back."

"Fuck!"

Sarge looked down at Wellesley. "Son, tell yer Sergeant I'm takin' these two with me. He can call Command for verification."

"But…you're taking our Sergeant."

"WHAT?" Sarge shouted, gunning the engine, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU! ENGINE'S TOO LOUD!" They sped off in a cloud of dust.

Wellesley held up a finger, opened his mouth, shut it, and turned back to the men. "Wh…what the hell just happened?"


End file.
